


The Cerberus Prometheus

by lttlelostzombi



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Kaidan is Subject Zero, M/M, Mass Effect 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3698546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lttlelostzombi/pseuds/lttlelostzombi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaidan Alenko was a powerful biotic. After he helped Commander Shepard defeat Saren and Sovereign the galaxy saw just what human biotics could be capable of. Unfortunately his skill drew the eye of the terrorist group known as Cerberus. Months after the Normandy went down, newly promoted Commander Alenko went missing on an assignment. For two years he was MIA until there was a distress signal out in the Nubian Expanse. By the time the Alliance got there, there was nothing left but a ship full of dead mercs and Cerberus agents alike, but no sign of the biotic. </p><p>Alternate Universe. Character swap. Kaidan Alenko is Subject Zero. Retelling of ME2.<br/>(this is a terrible summary, so expect a better one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 0

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a labor of love, it's nearly finished, so chapters should be updated pretty regularly as they get beta'd. As always, words of encouragement, constructive criticism, and all that are always welcomed!

The sound of thunder burst over the room and vibrated along the wall he leaned against. He felt it, though it was clearly not nearby. The whitewashed space was cool, and despite how thin the jumpsuit he had on was, sweat was running rivets down his spine. His brow prickled with the droplets of moisture that threatened to obscure his vision. It was a struggle to remember to take in deep breaths, heavy from his diaphragm with his hands shaking like they were. Hell, the more aware he became, the more he realized his whole body was shaking. Knocking his head back against the wall, once, twice; he swore to himself and pushed himself back up wincing at the pain sharp in his sciatica shooting down his legs. The muscles were slightly atrophied from disuse.

Another explosion sounded off in the distance and his lips curled rather manically. It was his cue. The sound pumping adrenaline through his veins as he began to move again, bare feet pounding along the tile on the floor. Vaguely he could hear boots down the hall headed in the direction of the last blast. It had been too many months planning for anything to fail now. 

Throwing his body against the next corner, the shadows around him seemed to embrace his pallor skin and he took in another heavy breath to calm down the pounding in his chest, holding it till his lungs burned. It wouldn't do, to plan so meticulously for so long through a haze of drugs and pain, only to fail because he couldn't hold in a few measly breaths. 

Static crackled in his ear from the stolen short-range transmitter and his jaw clenched. He wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat that he felt pool along his lip, but his hand raised to swipe it away absently, as he listened intently to the broken words that crackled sporadically: "...has escaped...all units to section de-...I repeat S-..." 

A laugh nearly bubbled out of his chest: _good, communications were knocked out as well _. It meant they were flying just as blind as he was. The relief was short lived; however, as the pounding of metal on metal and a skid of boots echoed through the hall, coming closer. His head whipped around to see three white armoured men round the corner and his arm flung out, a wash of blue swirling around him, bursting through the air as one guard flew straight up as if gravity no longer functioned properly. He wasn't sure who, but a distant cackle rang through the air as the other two took two steps back. It wasn't until the next one flew into the wall with a swipe of his eager hand that he realized the laugh was coming from himself. It sent a shiver down his back, knotting at the base of his spine uncomfortably.__

__His jaw once more tight, his teeth almost ground together, he stalked toward the final soldier, bullets pinging off the blue barrier that caressed tight around his flesh. He heard a screech and watched the man almost tumble over his feet as his hand hurled itself against his chest causing him to flip feet over chin, brown eyes dark and wavering behind angry blue light._ _

__Stepping over the body, his barrier sizzling around him, there was another jagged sound cutting through the air. Static squealed overhead as a voice echoed through the halls. "Do not let him escape! Approach with caution, do _not_ use lethal force. Subject Zero _must_ be captured alive." His hand was wrapped around the communicator. Dark energy sparked in his grip, and it took too much control not to crush the tech into dust. He needed it to keep abreast of their movements. It had been difficult enough to snag one in the first place; he wasn't about to struggle to find another. _ _

__Another click of sound and the voice cut off. They had communications back up as well; he'd have to tread a bit more carefully. Leaning down to pick up the pistol from the fallen soldier, Kaidan's hands seemed to move on their own accord: checking the heat sink, checking the safety. He snorted. The idiot had left it on. Somewhere in his chest he felt a shot of guilt for the pool of red that leaked from the white suit, but it was quickly overruled as the sound of metal crashing into metal bounced along the halls to his ears._ _

__Weapon up, shoulders tense, his body pressed against the wall, stepping silently as he moved into position. The sound of the voices were strange to him; he didn't know if it was the helmets that did it, or if Cerberus made their officers go through voice training, but they all sounded the same. Gruff, hard, overconfident._ _

__"Spread out. Beta team take the left; spread through the labs. He was last spotted headed toward the morgue; we can cut him off through B-wing. Foxtrot, move down the hall; Guardians, you take their point."_ _

__With a show of teeth to the unaware squad, his eyes closing, he stepped around the corner just enough to throw out a singularity before pressing himself tight to the wall again. This time he was silent, stoic, as he heard the screams from the surprised crew, bullets pelleting the hall and ceiling in haphazard attempts to either strike him or simple accident discharges in their own surprise. Not wanting to ruin the element of surprise he had afforded, his feet found themselves pushing out of cover, nearly rolling in to grab up a dropped Guardian shield. Raising it in front of him as he threw out another burst of energy, lifting two soldiers high in the air, not even looking as their limbs dangled uselessly. Pistol raised, two headshots caused blood spurting and beading in the air along with the floating bodies; the gun’s path was smooth as he made two more shots before his arm had to tuck back behind the shield. He could hear the steps forward from the others only to catch a yell as a few others got caught in the swirling core of his previous singularity. The barrier around his body seized and he didn't know where it came from, a buildup of rage and adrenaline, but his organs seemed to swell and ebb, filling with blood and eezo making him feel full, ready to burst. The noise that shook the room was nothing to the feeling over his skin as his vision cleared from the pounding red of his blood and the wavering blue of his biotics when he realized he'd burst through the line of soldiers with a biotic charge._ _

___Huh. Never done that before._ _ _

__Shaking off the prickling along his skin, Kaidan spun around to the remaining soldiers and picked one off with a shot to his leg, the clacking of armor against the flooring sharp. This time it was clear the sound that called out was not from him as a soldier ran toward him, clearly attempting his own sort of charge. It was enough of a surprise that Kaidan only caught on at the tail end, the man was closer than he should have gotten. It wasn't a move he was particularly adept at or comfortable with, but memories of another man floated through his mind. As the charging one got into range his arm raised, his body twisting out of the way, it was a confused sort of motion and guard tried to stop, maneuver; but too late. Pistol and arm coming down, he found purchase between the joint of head and shoulder, the crack was audible when encouraged by a biotic swipe. The soldier crumpled to the ground, and with his own form stiff, he stood over him, breathing heavily. His chest heaved and the sweat that clung to his skin made him almost shiver, his arm rose to wipe at his brow, the longer hairs falling into his face._ _

__Looking at the destruction around him, his feet moved to step over another body. His brain was clouded with a throbbing savagery that was barely contained as he tapped the door control, the woosh of air as it opened actually relaxing his shoulders._ _

__As it closed behind him, he felt that same air tickling at the back of his neck; his eyes took in the empty room in front of him. Empty until it wasn't. He knew he was getting closer to the garage, and expected more soldiers. Since they seemed to pile in with unlimited supply, he knew he should have been more prepared instead of taking the small breather._ _

__Diving under cover of a precariously placed table drawing energy toward him, the world seemed to slow down around him, his hearing foggy as he could feel each tendon, each muscle, work in tandem as he stood. The world seemed a strange blur, soldiers moving with muddied actions, bending and taking their own cover. It was a symphony of blue and violence. Bursts of energy exploded in succession while two bodies flew, dragged into a swirling black of gravity. Bodies fell as bullets seemed to bounce with heady pings and sizzles. There was a darkness behind his brow; he moved with slow accuracy, motions rounded and meticulous. A swirling of his arm and another man found his head hitting the ceiling only to have his skull ricochet back as blood squirted from the blackened hole in a helmet._ _

__Even as they fell, more marched in, the sound of their boots loud and foreboding. His breathing was even more labored; the amp at his back sizzled with heat causing him to flinch. There was a yell and suddenly there were two bodies flanking on either side; his gaze darted between them, trying to keep his lungs under control. They stopped, a few feet away, guns pointed deadly at his head. His barrier was getting weak, flickering in a way that he knew he wouldn't manage to withhold both the onslaughts. He'd have to chose._ _

__As his eyes closed there seemed to be a consensus made between the two soldiers although silent; he could feel it even if he couldn't see it. Bending his knees as one gun rose, he dropped down only to fall back, tailbone complaining fervently as--sure enough--a powerful slug managed to push through and graze over his side, ribs screeching with the pain._ _

__The hand free, not bracing him up from the floor as he caught himself, threw the weapon up, nearly smirking at the way the soldier's hands groped for the lost shotgun; he kicked out to knock him off his feet, expecting the shot that rang out from the other side. He didn't even bother to flinch as he felt it land, burying itself in the flesh of his shoulder. Standing awkwardly, a limp threatening to make itself known, he reached up to snag the floating gun from the air and pressed it to his uninjured side, flinching this time as the ricochet reverberated against his flesh. The bullet met its target square in the chest._ _

__There was silence as he stood, the sound of his breathing loud in the empty air. There was no pride to his stance, no feeling of accomplishment at the sight of bodies that littered the floor, only a desperate need. His feet left bloodied footprints behind as he struggled to move through the room._ _

__Another crackle of static got his attention, a voice, angry and frustrated, sounding in his ear. "Foxtrot, Charlie, Beta; status! What is the position of Subject Zero?" His eyes scanned over what were the remains of at least one of the squads; there was a part of him that nearly answered, a voice in his head, even and familiar, two years dead, that almost egged him on, but he needed to escape, not antagonize his captors._ _

__There was a groan off by the door, the sound drew him from his thoughts and straightened his back, adrenaline fighting off the pain of his injuries. Still, there was a faint limp as he moved to the body that was not dead yet, the only movement: the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes scanned over the downed man, indecision hung in the air, thick, before he simply stepped over it like he had all the others, tapping the at the door controls and stepping into the garage._ _

__It only occurred to him as he walked into the echoing chamber that his plan rested solely on there being some sort of vehicle present. Luckily, there were two mako's parked as if just waiting for him. His body ached, wounds reminding him of his mortality at the closed shutters. He had to move quickly, there was limited time before the disembodied voice determined where he was, and sent more troops along. Another deep breath as he moved toward the control panel that would set him toward true freedom._ _


	2. Chapter 1

“Out-processing is straight down this hallway. Just keep going past the interrogation rooms and the supermax wing. I’ll catch up with you later...Shepard.” The Warden walked with an arrogant sway in his step, as if he knew something the rest of them didn’t. Shepard’s eyes slid to meet Garrus’, unsurprised when his old friend had the same look plastered across his face. There was something in Warden Kuril’s tone that told them they needed to keep their guard up. It was a struggle, not reaching back and grabbing out his gun; the heavy weapon in his hands would have been a comfort, especially as they walked passed a guard checking the sight on his own. 

The sound of the large ship around made him think of Tali; it was loud, groaning and whining with the gentle movement of it’s engines. She had once said the Normandy was too quiet for her. It made him wonder if he had managed to convince her back on Freedom’s Progress to come with him, if _those_ were the sounds she had been use too; if after her Pilgrimage, after his….death, she'd reacclimated to the noise of her home again, or if she missed the quiet she said she’d grown use too. 

He missed her; missed everyone that he felt like he’d only just seen a month ago. From the messages and dates, he knew it had been two years. He saw it in Garrus’ face. He’d seen it in Tali’s. He felt it heavy in his chest, his lungs thick with the rising and setting suns across the galaxy that it had been more than a blink of his eyes. There had been an end of a war, the empty shells of geth littered the skies; and now colonists were going missing, their blips of existence flickering like the distance stars. He tried to focus on that, rather than the blackness of his memory, the ache in his bones for people he’d lost. 

There was another guard, standing stoic. Shepard stopped to look out to the hall of cells, aware Garrus and Miranda followed in time even without seeing them; the glass seemed to have a film across it making the view just a bit out of focus. There were other guards milling about down below; it was clear the fight they’d seen separated was a healthy occurrence, two other prisoners getting into one another’s face and though Shepard couldn’t hear the words, he wasn’t surprised by the shock of blue that once more pulled them apart. 

The batarian guard gave him a sidelong glance, black eyes studying. Shepard didn't bother to meet his gaze to try and figure out what the alien was thinking; the entire space was rife with tension. Looking back down to the scattered lower floor Shepard let out a breath and turned to continue walking down the hall, eyes shooting another look at Garrus. Whatever awaited them in out-processing he had a feeling it wasn't good. 

Thudding joined the sounds of groaning gears, and as the group rounded the corner Shepard felt the lines of his face deepen, frown evident, the corner of his eyes creasing with hard lines of displeasure with the beating on display in front of him. "You don’t even get good information that way,” Shepard saw Garrus head shake in his peripherals. “After a point, victims admit to anything to make the pain stop." Garrus' voice was a bit terse and Shepard had no doubt that the turian had first hand knowledge in _that_ interrogation technique. 

"Is there something I could do for you?" the guard asked as Shepard stepped up to the other turian. The frown on Shepard's face as he watched the brutality in front of him spoke volumes without a word; the turian didn't comment, either not caring or not well-versed in human expressions. 

"There’s no excuse for beating a prisoner who can’t fight back," eventually came out, internally wincing as a blow landed low on the human criminal. There was a noise of acknowledgement after Shepard had spoken, but it was clear no sympathy was given. Shepard was a number of things, he knew he'd done a number of bad things in his life, but he tried to uphold a few principles; beating a man while he was down didn't quite fit his moral code. 

"This is a massage compared to what his victims went through." 

_Even so_ , Shepard felt his nostrils flare with his disgust, jaw clenched tightly as he spoke: "this degrades you as much as him." The turian gave a sound that if he had been human, Shepard would have taken as a snort. Shepard's hands tightened into fists. 

"We have orders." 

"You're not important enough to make your own decisions?” The words came out biting; human, turian, batarian, there is one thing you could depend on in a soldier, their pride. 

It was silent for a beat and Shepard wondered if he'd read it wrong, read the guard wrong. He wouldn't step in, not really; if the guards wanted to continue to beat their prisoners. He wasn't there to fix injustices in a private controlled prison; he had a mission and he'd complete it with as little bloodshed as possible. He waited another beat planning on turning away when the guard spoke up. "I admit...I sometimes get tired of this. Does this really get us anything useful?" 

Letting out a breath, he nodded slightly, barely containing the urge to cross his arms over his armored chest. "So stop this. For your own sake." Turning to look at the turian, eyes piercing, he could almost read the thoughts, as the decision clicked into place. 

"Yeah. You’re right." There was a little nod and his head tilted slightly as he called to the other guard on the other side of the dreary glass. "Call it off. At least for now." 

Shepard tried not to glare back at the guard, his fingers itched to reach behind him at the stipulation; but what mattered, what was important, was the man had stopped, had cut it off before it had reached the point of no return. He watched the guard in the cell step back before he turned himself, moving to continue their trek. 

As they kept walking it occurred to him, his head tilting back behind him for a second, eyes meeting first Garrus' and then Miranda's...they'd only seen human prisoners, a fact only reinforced when a voice called out to him, to them. 

"Hey! Hey guys, over here." This time it was Garrus eyes that met Shepard's, the silent conversation between them made Miranda tense; Shepard could almost _feel_ the strained tension rolling off her shoulders. He knew they needed to continue on, and yet, there he stopped, resting at ease in front of another human with wild eyes. 

"Let me ask you something. If you’re buying prisoners, can you buy me?” The man shifted awkwardly on his feet, eyes darting around the space outside his cell never really landing on any of them. “Man, I don’t care where you take me or what you do to me. It’s got to be better than this." He sounded anxious, tense. Shepard wondered how bad it was that a man would rather face the unknown than remain in the known; it, again, made him worry what they would find when they collected Subject Zero. 

"We’re here for Subject Zero," came the clipped reply; Miranda's stance reflected her tone. The expression on the prisoner's face; however, changed immediately; Shepard wondered for a moment if it was fear of the woman beside him or the name, a question answered before he could fully finish the thought. 

"Subject Zero?" His beady eyes actually flickered between the three of them, his hands lifted in a defensive position as he shook his head. "Forget what I just said. I don’t want to go nowhere with you."

It was just another mark against the person they were collecting, whomever it was they were dangerous and every step made Shepard regret coming. As he shifted on his feet his arms crossed over his chest. The Illusive Man was not being honest with him. Subject Zero’s dossier had been particularly empty compared to the others, and he didn’t trust Kuril to give him better information. The man in front of him, desperate for freedom, was his best bet. “Tell me about Subject Zero.”

“The worst trouble you ever saw,” his head shook as if anxious to wipe some memory clear, “mixed with some crazy and way too much biotic power.” His hands raised making a gesture like an explosion, the mocking sound of it coming from his mouth before his head tilted again, a half shake. “That’s all I’m saying. Pow, pssh, you know.” 

He didn’t know, but he wasn’t sure he wanted further details. Perhaps the man in front of them had committed more minor offenses, something non-violent that made him itchy around the other prisoners. Although he didn’t want to know the answer and he could feel how impatient Miranda was growing, he still needed to ask, “what are you in for?” 

The man shuffled on his feet but strangely, but didn’t look any more guilty, his shoulders shrugging, “I killed a few people. Only about 20 or so.” There was a pause, “well and I blew up that one habitat. Small-time compared to most of the guys here.” 

The statement took a moment for him to process; twenty murders, detonation of heavy weaponry, and the man was nonchalant about it, shrugging it off and talking about how it was ‘small-time’. The ‘I should go,' was out of his mouth, spit really, before he could do anything otherwise. The response from the man about how he wished he could as well almost ignited along Shepard’s nerves, his anger desperate to lash out. Instead he ground his teeth and walked away, though the disgust remained, sloshing in his gut. 

Human or not, these men certainly deserved to be in prison; it made him anxious, uncomfortable at the thought of who they were picking up. So far everyone they'd spoken to recoiled at the thought of Subject Zero, clearly he left them with a disgusted churn in their gut. If a man who was 'small time' by this place's standards wanted to avoid interaction with the biotic, was he really going to be useful? Safe?

Shepard once more ached for the two years gone, for his squad mates, for his _friends_. He had Garrus at his back and that was a good feeling. He knew at least someone was on his side, he could trust. Miranda and Jacob: he couldn't say he disliked them, but he didn't know them They were wildcards, Cerberus agents that had actively worked to keep him contained, even if it was their presence was what kept him on the extremely long leash of the Illusive Man, but none of it boded well. Whatever the Illusive Man wanted, he knew where to tug; he had Shepard collared with no way out and was purposefully keeping him from getting to people that could help him slip free. He didn't doubt that if the Illusive Man had known that Archangel was Garrus Vakarian the name would never have come up on the dossiers. Garrus wasn't a pawn to control; Garrus was Shepard's man, through and through, and the Illusive Man knew it. 

Miranda cleared her throat behind him, and Shepard realized he'd been staring at the next prisoner. The man was bent down, curled into himself, muttering under his breath about the voices in his head. Brow’s folded, he cleared his own throat hoping to gain the inmate’s attention. It did nothing, the man continued to rock back and forth and mutter. Lifting his hand, Shepard went to tap on the glass only to have Garrus raise his own, not quite reaching Shepard's arm, but enough to stop the action, shaking his head. Their eyes met, and Shepard gave a small nod, meaning to turn and walk away. 

There was a thud and the prisoner shot up, his fist curled against the glass, his eyes wide and wild, piercing into the three of them. His lips curled into a maniacal grin, his voice slurring with arousal, “I hear them screaming in my head. It’s nice.” He licked his lips, his gaze landing on Miranda, “yeah.”

Shepard unconsciously moved to step somewhat in front of her though the glass was clearly thick enough to protect all of them from the psychopath. There was a low thrum from his other side, catching Garrus’ head shaking slightly in his peripherals, “I don’t agree with everything they do here, but, it’s in the galaxy’s best interests.” 

Taking another look at the man that was slipping back down returning to his previous position, rocking back in forth, Shepard gave a small shake of his own head before gently pushing around Miranda. He didn’t want to think any further on the other people sequestered in their individual cells.

The final steps to out-processing ended with a slice in the air; the door opened for them automatically. Shepard didn't like what was going on, but Garrus had a point; he still didn’t like the idea. The men and women here were not good people; they were dangerous. It really did eat away at him the way they were treated; he could only imagine what those locked away had done. 

Another shudder fought to crawl down his spine. Subject Zero would shortly be on his ship. Was this really a good idea? 

The technician in the corner spoke out, "out-processing is through the door on the far side of the room." Shepard gave a nod, moving to walk around the desks placed along the walls. It was a strange room to lead criminals in and out of, though it apparently seemed to be the norm here; he was sure Kuril had it down to a science. Selling them off for profit, credits and torture; it made his gut churn. It reminded him of men he'd known in his childhood, always finding a way to profit in bad situations.

Actually, apparently it was more than a science. The intercom crackled with static as the turian's voice called out overhead, "my apologies, Shepard. You’re more valuable as a prisoner than a customer. Drop your weapons and proceed into this open cell. You will not be harmed." Shoulders bunching he heard Garrus click in a fresh heat sink before he even had time to answer. 

"Maybe I can change your mind." There was a pause, too short for the warden to really think about what he'd said, but long enough; he clearly had expected Shepard to say something, although, apparently something much more violent as the opposing door suddenly whooshed open and guard's poured in. Not for the first time he appreciated Garrus' presence, his teammate already heading to cover making a shot to the first poor merc that shouldered in. 

Ducking behind one of the other tables, he appreciated the otherwise random cover. His laugh garnered Miranda's attention, " _What_ , Shepard?" Her smooth voice was hard and clearly annoyed. He did suppose the warden had just gone against Cerberus and the Illusive Man, stopping a sale she'd assumed would go smoothly. 

Garrus voice rang out, his tone rumbling with amusement, "Look at all the cover they've provided us!" 

It was that statement that had Shepard really laughing, a cackle itching it's way out of his throat, a real sound compared to so many other forced ones lately. "You'd have figured Kuril wouldn't corner a dead man with so much fortification." Truthfully, that was exactly what Shepard _had_ been thinking; his thoughts had mirrored Garrus' own perfectly. It reminded him of the good old days, the ones that were only weeks to him, years to the galaxy. Honestly, who led a trained soldier to a place where he could duck and cover?

Rolling behind the next desk, Shepard stood just in time to make a shot to another guard's throat, listening to the gurgled scream before he collapsed on the floor. He heard Miranda make an annoyed noise but otherwise remained silent. 

"Hey Garrus!" Shepard called out. 

"Shepard," there was another loud pop of sound accompanied by a screech as a soldier fell.

"Scratch one!" The laugh that followed, filled with a subharmonic thrum made Shepard grin, lips pulled taut over his teeth, almost a feral grimace rather than a smirk. 

This time Miranda did speak up, her voice less amused. "We need to get Subject Zero out of cryo,” there was a silent ' _instead of fucking around_ ' in there that both he and Garrus ignored; although, he did push forward, leaping over the final cover, arm reeling back to land a physical blow against the batarian guard, knocking him back. 

Shepard hefted his gun to land the final blow only to watch him fly in the air, hitting the ceiling in a burst of blue. Something twisted in his gut, a memory he didn’t have time to dwell on. Ignoring it, instead, he turned to give a thankful salute to the woman behind him before rushing out the door. The sound of the warden’s voice once more chimed overhead, “--nforce Out-processing! Shepard is loose!”

“Good to feel wanted, mm Shepard?” 

“You know it Garrus.” Although less wanted would have been prefered, as his foot jolted out kicking at the FENRIS mech that rounded the corner. There was a flash of light as metal impacted metal, the ting and subsequent mini-explosion taking it down. The second was lunging, Shepard took a step back, gun lifted just as the boom of a rifle went off and the momentum was lost. The mech dropped like a stone. He didn’t have time to turn and thank Garrus; he simply assumed his crewmate knew as he ran to fall behind cover, the sound of his pumping blood rushing over his ears. 

There were two more guards flying fast on their feet around the corner, their footsteps loud as they rushed to meet them. Shepard threw himself out from behind the beam he’d pressed himself against, providing cover fire as Miranda and Garrus brought up the rear. There was a gasp and a thud as a round met a shoulder, throwing one merc back. 

Gunfire screamed around him, his shield shimmering in complaint with each hit; the HUD on his omnitool screamed out a warning the further in the red it got. He ignored it. Adrenaline bursting forth as he made a dash, firing freely toward the batarian ahead of him, arm already reeling back to land the heavy fisted blow against the yellowed skin. The sound of Miranda’s voice muttered in his ear, “ _dammit Shepard_ ,” low enough that he wasn’t sure she realized she’d said it aloud. Only it didn’t matter as the guard, bleeding, recovered and swung back, the butt of his rifle nearly nailed Shepard under the chin. 

He fell back, catching himself at the last second before sidestepping the next blow, pistol rolling it’s way into his grip to make a clean shot at the man’s side. He didn’t take the time to watch the body fall before he was nearly running backwards, arms lifting higher to shoot at the final turian guard now at an impasse to protect his front or his flank. 

Shepard felt it before he saw it; however, like the air around him vibrated, and he watched as the turian burst in electric blue, a shriek ringing in the air before he crumpled to the ground. Not for the first time he felt a twinge of jealousy watching a biotic in action, the tingling in the air still clinging along his nerves. 

The nostalgic feeling was back in his gut, but he pushed it away. Miranda had been right, and he could see the words written all across her face again; they needed to get this Subject Zero out of cryo and onto their ship before more mercs showed up. 

Not giving her a chance to make the comment; however, he spun around and made the last sprint toward the dead-end door.


	3. Chapter 2

The light around the door flickered, almost as if there was a power surge or something that was trying to hinder their progress, but Shepard was quicker, fist thunking against the door, the sound of air whooshing by them as it opened. The man on the other side called out in a panic, gun raising, screeching out for backup, but Shepard had already made the long-legged steps to him, a harsh right hook knocking him down and out. 

Miranda and Garrus flanked him; Miranda's arms immediately crossing after holstering her weapon. She studied the screen in front of them. "If we hack that control every door on the cellblock opens." 

Shepard's gaze moved from her to the screen, frowning, glaring. Was it worth it? They had come all the way to secure a prisoner that a known terrorist had said would be useful. Everyone else offered up for their quest had been logical, talented and a clear asset. Even Garrus, with as little information to his real identity, had been detailed and an added advantage; this man or woman was an unknown. The extent of knowledge began and ended at 'powerful human biotic'. For all they knew it was a Sander frozen in that tube.

"It's the only way to get Subject Zero out of cryo." The subharmonics echoed in the space, a taint of his own dissatisfaction laced throughout them. Shepard had to make a decision, fast; guards would surely be on their way, it wouldn't do to be caught with their hands down their suits, so to speak. 

His hand wavered over the controls. A severe face flashing across his thoughts. 

_Grunt_. 

It was the krogan situation all over again. The potential for danger was there but it wasn't fair to judge someone on the _potential_. "I'm doing it," Shepard paused, a heavy weight suddenly pressed against his chest, making him second guess himself. His fingers, however, moved determined in their course of action. "Be ready." 

The hack was simple, simpler than he expected; still, he recalled all too clearly only a month ago, watching Kaidan work his magic. Two years, he reminded himself. It had been two years and a whole galaxy between them, lost in space, unknown if dead or alive. A fact Shepard had been actively avoiding thinking about since Anderson had given him the update. Missing in action only four months after the Commander had gone down. Presumed dead until there had been a strange transmission in the Nubian Expanse a few months ago. No contact since. 

The sound of the air release broke his train of thought, his eyes lifted to watch through the protective glass as the clawed arm creaked into position, spinning toward alignment. His eyes scanned the three mechs that stood around, fact plates twitching in the way they did when they focused, this time on the lifting tube. Air or steam rolled and slithered out of the raising platform, clouding the space for a moment before it all began to settle along the ground. 

And then time stopped. 

Blood was suddenly pounding between his ears worse than the adrenaline fueled thuds only moments ago. He missed Garrus nearly drop his gun because his own was clacking loudly on the terminal in front of him. He couldn't move. His lungs ached, a physical warning that he wasn't breathing; his subconscious demanded a hard breath that made his chest spasm with the sudden fullness. Or at least that was the physiological reason he was going with. 

"Kaidan..." the name swam in his head, seemed to ring reverently in the air. He'd spoken the name aloud. The space between him and the glass had suddenly shrunk, almost to nothing, the streaked glass cool even beneath his gauntlet hand. His throat was raw as he went to call out the man's name again, only to have it sit strangled against his tongue. 

The slightly emaciated body, paler than normal and just shy of bruised was heaving, flickering blue as he fought the shackles at his wrists. Shepard took a surprised step back when the first one snapped with a metallic clank, quickly followed by the second.. 

As the two free hands rose, pulled strong, almost maniacally, at the one tight across his throat, Shepard was drawn to the distinguished face. It was twisted, almost unrecognizable, with hate. There was a thick beard across his jaw, hair longer than Shepard had ever seen it--and his eyes--swirling with the blue corona, they were filled with such rage. 

Shepard tried to find his voice, to call down to him, only to be stopped short, again, with the quake that reverberated through the ship. He'd been so focused that the blast of biotic energy had taken him off guard; Shepard's mouth hung open like a fish. 

"We need to get down there," he heard Miranda's voice call distantly. Shepard didn't move. " _Shepard_."

His head swung to look at the woman whose eyebrows had lifted so far on her forehead with a clear impatience, unfailingly frustrated--at him or the mission, he couldn't tell (not that it was like any of the previous mission had gone to plan in the first place). Although this...

His eyes flickered to Garrus and he saw a similar expression in his old friend's eyes. 

What was Kaidan doing there? 

* * *

Kuril's voice may have stopped shrieking over the intercom, as his body laid prone at Shepard's feet, but the computer was still rather incessant. The call of more cell blocks shutting down growing ominous.

Shepard's gun shifted against his hip, eyes looking around at the carnage in this room alone. It turned in his gut. Where was the Lieutenant that hated using his powers on people? The man that had always been the steady rock on his team? Anderson had said he'd been missing for almost as long as Shepard himself; what had happened to his friend in the past two years? What was he doing on a private prison ship being called the ‘worst of the worst’. 

"Shepard," the voice seemed to share some semblance of his concern; after all, it had usually been the three of them jaunting across the galaxy. Kaidan, Garrus, and Shepard, the deadly trio stopping Saren one bad joke at a time. "We need to get to Kaidan before-"

Shepard started to move, using the action as his answer before Garrus could even finish the statement. There were any number of guards and loose prisoners still roaming around, stopping Kuril hardly diminished the threat. 

From the corner of his eye he saw Miranda give him a pointed look, a question clearly on her lips, but she seemed to change her mind, instead dropping her arm to fall behind him, her eyes jerking over to Garrus only for a moment, before taking point, her heels clicking decisively against the floor. As she moved ahead of them a talon reached out, just a brush of a knuckle at his arm stopping him in his tracks, making him look back at his friend. The words were quiet, just above a whisper, "are you alright?" The concern on Garrus' face was clear regardless of the differing alien physiology. 

Shepard stared at him, silence hanging between them, his ribs aching with an emotion he didn't want to examine. His head shook even as "I'm fine," slipped from his lips. Garrus' mandibles twitched but he didn't question him further. Shaking off the touch Shepard sprinted to catch up to Miranda, his weapon once more raised. 

The sound of metal hitting metal was muffled ahead of them and Shepard picked up the pace, quickly overtaking the woman's lead. As the door ahead of them opened he was barely surprised to hear the whirl and click of it locking once they stepped through; EDI had warned them Kuril had been blocking their path. They surprised a guard that turned only in time to meet the bullet lodging in his armor, another two firing successively from either side of him, the body crumpling to the ground. 

EDI's voice rang in his ear, "the docking bay is immediately ahead of your position, I am attempting to unlock the hangar door for you." 

"Thank you EDI," he paused, "do you know the position of Kai- Subject Zero?" 

"There are four life forms ahead, it is very probable one is Subject Zero." 

Although she couldn't see it, Shepard nodded assent, his features hardening in their expression, prepared for whatever lay ahead. What he didn't expect, what they found, were two bodies laying dead--or unconscious, unable to tell which--a stoic man standing, staring at the docked ship behind the reinforced glass. 

It was barely there, but there was a tremor to the otherwise still form, a motion of uncontrolled feeling and it had Shepard nearly lowering his gun, going to step forward when the flicker of movement behind Kaidan became precedent, the focus and aim so automatic, he'd barely realized what he’d done as blood spurted from a well placed headshot, the body of a guard toppling over just behind the biotic. 

The action drew attention to the three of them, Kaidan turning, his expression worth more than Shepard could quantify; the breathy sound from a roughened voice whispering his name ("Shepard"), causing a skip in the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

The gun lowered, feet making progress toward the man he'd been asking after since his memories had started to recompile in his head. "Kaidan." His hand reached out the closer they stepped, his grip coming around the offered forearm, the returned touch heavy and comforting even layered above armor and polymer. 

"Shepard." His voice was clearer, emotion laced beneath the surface, but less rough, the first having been good enough practice for disused vocal cords. 

"Kaidan," Shepard was grinning, his lips turning up with the warmth that filled his chest. There was a strange light in Kaidan's eyes that Shepard didn't get a chance to decipher when a cough behind them interrupted the reunion, and he felt the heat of another body slide up. 

"Garrus," the dual-layered tone was amused, as the turian spoke his own name, his own hand reaching out in offer to Kaidan, mandibles twitching. 

"Garrus." Kaidan's voice repeated, laced with laughter that seemed hoarse, as if unused to the sound as he took the offered grip. Shepard wanted to hug them both, desperate with relief at just being in the presence of his closest friends. He fought the urge, however; he was the Commander of an advanced frigate, not a hysterical volus. Still, anything would have been better than the stupid grin that wouldn't leave his face, or the pregnant silence that wrapped itself around the three of them. 

Miranda's clicking heels broke through it, drew his attention, and the fold across her brows was enough to sober him, turning to look at her, "Miranda--" he didn't get any further than her name before electric blue was violently ablaze and his brain barely caught up with what was happening, his body jumping between the two biotics, arms shooting out to segregate the two, Kaidan's brilliant corona wavering over his form, the look of rage suddenly returned. 

"Kaidan!" The name was called out with a hoarse tone, commanding, his gaze hard on the other man. Kaidan's expression, his eyes didn't even move away from the woman he was so focused on. 

"With all due respect _Commander_ ," the title slid from his tongue with a disdain that threw Shepard, though he did not move, his stance not changing, "I suggest you _step away_. This doesn't concern you." 

"It does when you are threatening someone on my crew." 

"You're crew!"

"My cr--"

"She's Cerberus! She's got the fuck-" he paused, the swirling blue-covered irises finally turning to focus on Shepard instead. The air was charged, changed, Shepard suddenly felt the weight of Kaidan's gaze heavy on him, threatening. "That's the--" his gaze flickered out the glass pane and back again, "that's the goddamn Normandy flying with Cerberus colors isn't it?" The words were spit, laced with so much hostility, as if they had the power to make Shepard ill. That was how he felt, ill. He didn't like being aligned with the radical group, but sometimes you had to align with the devil to protect. 

"Kaidan-" 

"No. No." He stepped back, the blue had hardly dissipated but space was growing between the two of them. "Are you even--" there was something wild in the other man's gaze, a horror that Shepard didn't understand. "You _died_ \- I watched you- listened to you--" there was a pain, strangled and hoarse as a hand moved to rub hard, gripping the back of his neck. Shepard's eyes followed the motion trying to piece together what Kaidan was to to say, to get at. 

"I was- in a coma. Cerberus brought me back, there are colonists going mis--"

" _Cerberus_." The name was spit with such venom. Kaidan laughed, the sound cold. "Shepard, I'd rather take my chances with a bunch of sociopaths on a prison ship than step foot on _any_ ship flying under _that_ insignia."

"Shepard," Miranda's voice was taut, she was moving around his protective stance to make eye contact. "We don't have time to argue with some...felon, we're trying to save human lives. We have a timetabl--" 

The blue corona was gone, replaced with a hard, short, laugh. "Which human's would those be exactly? The downtrodden? Because I've seen what you do to them. Maybe the rich and successful? Because I've visited a few graves that argue otherwise. Cerberus doesn't care about _humanity_ , they care about sating their own _curiosity_." 

"Cerberus is here. _We_ are here to release _you_! If you chose to insult Shepard that is--"

" _Shepard_ ," his name was spoken as a taunt, laced with another laugh, sardonic and bitter, it caused Miranda to lift a brow as it filled the air, watching Kaidan’s body angling back, his feet following the bend of his shoulders. "You and your _team_ \--"

" _Kaidan_ ," 

"No Shepard, I'll make due, I don't know who you are anymore, I don't know that I _want_ to know." 

"Kaidan--" 

"Commander--" the smooth electronic voice sounded in his ear. 

"Not _now_ EDI."

"Commander, life support in cell blocks 30, 14, 12, 11, 9, 8, 7, 4, and 2 have all shut down, I have had to divert power from cell block 1 to your location, I am unsure how long the generators will last. It would be in your best interest to reboard the Normandy." Miranda's gaze whipped around to him, he felt her hard eyes bore into his as she too overheard the AI’s warning. Turning his attention to Garrus the other man nodded; however Kaidan felt, they weren’t leaving him to die, whether he was willing to come along or not. 

“Alenko, the ship is collapsing on itself. You’re coming with us.” 

Kaidan’s hands jerked out to his sides, a pop-thrum filling the air as blue crackled around him again. It was a challenge, if an inarticulated one. 

Shepard’s heart dropped, his words a little more desperate than he intended for them to come out. “Kaidan, we’re not leaving you to die.” 

“Then you’ll have to take me by force Commander.” And his tone was clear that he meant it, and that Garrus clearly planned on taking the challenge, the turnian making a step forward. He felt the brush of electricity as Miranda’s own aura ignited in response, and Shepard’s hand immediately went up to still them. 

“No. If we start firing on our friends,” his eyes bored straight into Kaidan as he spoke, “then we’re no better than what he’s professing,” there was a beat, air heavy with what Shepard was trying to convey. “You can leave at next dock. I, nor anyone on my crew, will stop you.” The hall was silent, tense, with the stand-still as Kaidan’s face remained unmoved, unchanged, even as his whiskey-stone eyes seemed so far away. 

It ached and twisted in Shepard’s gut. He did not want to fire on friend, his--Kaidan; but they were running out of options and if it came down to it, he’d rather drag him unconscious back onto the ship, friendship demolished, than leave him to die on a ship full of murderers. 

His eyes darted over to Garrus again, glad he’d brought his friend with him. There was a flicker, a twitch of a mandible, Garrus was ready when... _if_ Shepard gave the signal. Looking back, he felt the tension knot, clinging to his rebuilt ribs, every tick of the clock harsh… Kaidan really was going to make this into a fight…

Shepard’s hand began to raise…

“ _First_ populated port--I’m gone.” The voice cut into the air so thick it nearly startled him. 

Shepard stared, silent for a moment, before giving a jolted nod. “You have my word.” And as their eyes caught, Shepard tried to convey his honesty, and more important, his gratitude. The look returned, however, had eyes cold as stone, not giving an inch. Shepard couldn’t say why, but his heart felt hollow looking into the empty depths.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Illusive Man is a bad bad man, not that Shepard needs reminded.

There was a sharp metallic clap as Shepard slammed the locker shut. It was petulant and it unfortunately did nothing to alleviate the storm rattling in his chest. His mind was a battlefield, only one he wasn’t as adept at maneuvering. There was a part of him that understood, a large part that even craved to respond with mutiny and force; like they had before, like they had at Ilos. Shepard hadn’t forgotten what he’d seen just a few months ago ( _dammit, two years ago_ ), had to contact too many people because of experiments gone awry. It had never occurred to him that he’d ever have to owe anything to the mad scientists, because that’s what they were; and he knew better than most, he was a modern-day Frankenstein’s monster. Only one that its creator hadn’t abandoned. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

Sure, he wasn’t rebuilt from the pieces of the dead, not multiples anyway, but he was still having to relearn how to be human. As much as he hated what Cerberus had done, didn’t he owe them? They gave him back his life. 

The thought lurched, sending bile sloshing nauseatingly along his esophagus. Kaidan was right, _he_ wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. How he could ask anyone to trust him when he could barely find that trust in himself? It was monstrous. And he, after all, was the monster. 

A crack echoed in the space, and it was a second later when he realized, he’d punched the locker door, dented the metal there. His hand ached and as he tried to flex it, pain shot up along his knuckles. Probably fractured. He wasn’t sure he cared. 

The disgust at his very body spread through his nerves and he found his feet leading him from the lift, down the hall. Realization struck as the mess passed his peripherals. Was it fair, heading to Garrus? It made Shepard stop in his tracks, an awkward stance as his body went still in the middle of the hall. The understanding that he couldn’t trust himself, let alone ask others to do so....it _wasn’t_ fair to seek refuge with one of the few _he_ trusted. It would have made him turn around had the man not appeared in the line of sight. 

There was no amusement tugging over the scarred face, it was still and silent. Their eyes met for a long moment before Garrus gave a nod of his head and gestured him to follow, a bidding that Shepard took, stepping into the main battery as the door closed behind them. 

The tall languid body leaned back against the console, arms crossing, every line a picture of nonchalance. It made Shepard anxious and he shifted on his feet for a moment before moving to sit on an upturned crate, stiff but not nearly so still, a foot bouncing and fingers tapping restlessly. 

There they both stayed, not quite looking at each other, not making any sort of start to a conversation. Shepard wasn’t sure how to even articulate what he wanted, _needed_ , to say. Their relationship had changed; he didn't know if it was their past binding them to the present in a way none of the other's shared, or something else, but it was a stark difference from the awkward conversations they used to stumble through next to the Mako. 

Although, the lack of conversation as they not-quite-looked at each other didn't seem _that_ far off. 

Garrus turned to face the gun’s terminal and began to tap along the keys, the movement enough to draw Shepard out of his reverie, though he didn't move from his seated place. He wanted to ask Garrus why he seemed so sure Shepard was still himself, why he was willing to put that faith in him. Why so many seemed convinced to follow him, bits of flesh and memory knitted together for a singular purpose. Would he be useful afterwards? Was he built with a timestamp that would cease at the end of his function? The Illusive Man seemed to have a plan but wasn't keen on sharing it. 

"I'm really disappointed in you Shepard." 

The statement drew Shepard out of his brooding, brows raised in surprise and affront. "What?" 

"I was expecting a better challenge out of you. I definitely kicked your ass, dropping more mercs out there." 

Shepard stared before he found himself laughing. "You sure about that Vakarian?" 

"Kuril may have been a son-of-a-bitch, but he was still only _one_." Amusement thrummed in Garrus' voice. 

"There was a lot of me taking point _before_ that if you remember. I'd say, at worst, we're equal." 

The words had the turian laughing. "You willing to bet on it?"

"Are you?" 

Whether or not Garrus was willing to take that bet didn't come to fruition, a loud thud almost shaking the walls. Shepard's brow grew immediately harsh. "EDI--"

"So, uh...there is a....situation with Kaidan and Miranda in her office you might want to deal with before they...kill each other." Joker paused as if uncomfortable with the word choice but decided to use it regardless; and honestly, after what Shepard had seen on Purgatory there was an actual concern that that could happen. 

"I'm headed there now." His eyes met Garrus' before he walked swiftly out the door, heading down the hall. He worried there'd be another clang, some other sound of violence before he could even make the short trek, his legs carrying him in an almost sprint. 

As Miranda's office door slid open he wasn't surprised to find the two biotic's encased in blue, a chair overturned and laying on Miranda’s bed. That must have been the thud. Something unsettled rested in his chest to see that Kaidan stood as the aggressor. Cerberus or not, he could not imagine the man he'd gotten to know as they'd chased a rogue Spectre across the galaxy of such hostile vehemence. 

"There is an implant drilled so deep into my--"

"Enough! Stand down!" His voice bellowed out across the small space, interrupting Kaidan's harsh timbre; it did not remove their glowing aura, but it did still them from doing more damage. 

Kaidan's eyes remained on the other woman, whose fingers twitched and Shepard shot her a warning look even as he directed his words to the other. "Kaidan," he let his voice lower, their old friendship guiding him, less assertive, more earnest, "I understand your animosity, I don't trust Cerberus either--" the other man snorted, " _Kaidan_ , believe me or not, I _don't_ ; but you can't blame Miranda for your implant. In all likelihood she--"

"She what?" The biotic spun to face him and even though a few short wee--years ago Shepard would never have thought Kaidan would harm him, he actually felt threatened. Doubt and bile rose in his throat, he itched for a gun that unfortunately wasn't at his side. Kaidan either didn't notice or did not care. 

"Had an amp soldered into her spine? Did she get tested on and tortured for _two damn years_ so she could grow more nodules? Because it sounds more like _she'd_ be the one _doing_ the experiments, not volunteering for them!" 

There was a pregnant pause, Shepard stared at Kaidan awash in confusion. "What?" 

It was Miranda that responded. "I don't know what cell was in charge of whatever they did to you, but--" 

" _Miranda_." Her name was bitten out, hard and deadly. "What are you talking about?" 

Her barrier died down, her arms crossing over her chest. The expression she wore on her face wasn't one he could read, but he didn't like the way it settled in his gut. "He is claiming he’s a Cerberus test subject. But it couldn’t be Cerberus, not really. The-” 

“I woke up with that,” Kaidan’s hand jerked back at the painted symbol on the wall though he remained facing her, eyes alight with fire even as the rest of his expression remained still, “staring me in the face. I couldn’t sleep without it burning into my retinas. Don’t tell me it wasn’t Cerberus.” Kaidan’s voice was a low growl, deadly in it’s calm. 

“Trust me when I say the Illusive Man wouldn’t have been stupid enough to send Shepard to get you if that were the case, if he had known who you were.” 

Kaidan’s cold laugh echoed in the room, he let his barrier drop as the bitter laugh continued. “So your argument isn’t that they _would_ , just that your boss wouldn’t have had Shepard come get me.” 

"I am saying that if it was a legitimate sect of Cerberus it wouldn't be a concern. Scientific discovery is one thing, but aimless torture is not part of our policy." 

"Aimless torture? So if it furthered their research they have no qualms?" 

"You just hear what you want to hear, don't you? I'm saying that sometimes pain is necessary but torture--"

"Enough!" Shepard barked out, "regardless of what you think is necessary Miranda, Kaidan clearly has memories of Cerberus operatives. That's enough for anyone to have qualms with an organization, their legitimacy within it notwithstanding. God knows, I still do." His hand then lifted toward Kaidan, almost hovering near his chest, the heat of his skin within grasp as he turned to look at the other man, "Kaidan, Miranda wasn't there. I can attest to that. And I want to find out what happened, I want to _talk_ to you," there was almost a plea there before he continued, "but you can't blame Miranda." Their eyes met and for a moment Shepard felt a flicker of hope; there was a depth swirling beneath the brown eyes that Shepard tried to latch on to. His fingers nearly brushed the rough orange material Kaidan still wore, callouses desperate to catch on the fabric, but Kaidan was stepping away, back turning, and...just like that the moment was gone. Lost and instead of the emptiness he’d been left with before, rage swirled in its place.

As the door shut, Miranda moved to stand in front of him, one arm crossing over the other as she scratched her neck. It was a vulnerable action Shepard was learning, but in that moment he didn't care. 

"Shepard, thank you. I don't know--"

"Leave it Miranda." He probably should have felt guilty at how hard the words were, but his anger was growing and he couldn't find it in him to be damned about hurt feelings. "There is _no way_ it was a legitimate Cerberus cell, right?" There wasn't a begging note to his voice, but it sang in his bones; he masked it with the anger. 

For her part Miranda seemed to notice, her gaze on him tight and thoughtful. "I have worked with the Illusive Man for a long time. _If_ he knew, he would have had a damn good reason to send you to pick him up. He's trying to gain your trust, not exacerbate it." 

It wasn't the answer he was looking for but before he would let Miranda try and correct her words, argue otherwise, Shepard himself was storming out, gratified with the hissing sound of air as the door shut behind him. 

He flexed his hand, relishing in the dull pain from his previous outburst against the lockers. It was something besides the swirling thoughts to focus on. Shepard was nearly to the elevator, unsure where his feet were carrying him, wondering if he should find, confront, Kaidan. Instead Joker’s voice broke through the static of the intercom. 

"Commander, urgent message coming in from the Illusive Man. Want me to patch him through to the Comm Room?"

Shepard’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding. "I'm headed there now, I have a few things I'd like to _talk_ to him about." 

"Aye, aye, sir." 

As he stepped into the QEC, the lights going dark to illuminate the hologram of a seated man, he didn’t quite make eye-contact with him, instead, Shepard's arms crossed tightly over his chest. Whatever the Illusive Man had to say, Shepard had a few questions of his own. 

"Shepard. I think we have them. Horizon-" 

"We have Subject Zero." He interrupted quickly, little care about how rude he was being.

"I'm glad, now, one of our colonies--"

"It's Kaidan Alenko." 

The words gave the man pause; Shepard could almost see the hesitation in the way his hand hovered with it's cigarette. Shepard wasn't sure what that meant. 

"Your former Lieutenant." 

"Yes. He'd been missing for two years." 

"I- am aware." 

"He says Cerberus had him." 

There was no answer as the Illusive Man lifted the burning fag to his lips, taking a long drag off of it before answering, his finger tapping at the end. Shepard couldn't see it, but assumed his eyes followed the ash that must have fallen off of it. 

"There have been a few...rogue sects we haven't been able to completely close down. I was, aware, of one that had been targeting biotics." 

The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface burst out, his hand gesticulated out violently pointing at the holographic image of a man he wanted to suddenly strangle. "You knew." 

"Did I know we had rogue sects? Yes. Did I know they had your former crewmate? No. Is he going to be a problem on this mission?" 

"I'm going to be a problem on this mission if you are lying to me!" 

"Shepard, think what you will, I have no interest in jeopardizing this mission. Having you collect a tortured crewmate hardly advances the trust between us." 

"So if I told you I am letting him walk off this ship at our first dock you won't argue otherwise?"

"I won't undermine your command. If he is going to be a problem, I would encourage it." 

Shepard leaned back on the balls of his feet, arms crossing, eyes lidded with suspicion. Whatever sound logic the Illusive Man spouted, however close it was to what Miranda had even said, something didn't feel right, and his instincts were usually good. "I'm letting him leave when we dock. I'll contact the Alliance personally to have a shuttle pick him up."

"It...may not be that simple Shepard." 

There was a grinding in his jaw, he _knew_ something wasn't right. 

There was a pause as the Illusive Man took a long drag of his cigarette again, as if he cared little for their conversation. It infuriated Shepard, his hands forming tight balls in the crook of his elbows.

"Has Mordin delivered the countermeasures for the seeker swarms?"

"No." Shepard paused, his chin tilting with question. It wasn't exactly what he'd expected when the Illusive Man had spoke. "Not yet." 

"Let's hope he works well under pressure then. Horizon," an image appeared for Shepard to look at, a clearly terraformed planet, his eyes scanned over it, focused on the information there for the moment rather than Kaidan, even as his gut still sloshed at the thought. "One of our colonies in the Terminius Systems just went silent. If it isn't under attack, it soon will be." 

"We should send a message to the Citadel, get the Alliance to send us reinforcements."

"Not until you investigate. I don't want the Alliance getting in the way. Once you have the situation under control I'll send the message, personally. For reinforcements _and_ Commander Alenko."

"If they are attacking a colony the Alliance has a right to support- they could send ships from the Caleston Rift."

"And get abducted right along with the colonists. Without Mordin's countermeasure the same would happen to you." 

There was a pause, silence as Shepard stared at the man. He knew he was right, he didn't have to like it. "Send the coordinates." The words were nearly grunted out.

"This is the most warning we've ever had, Shepard. Good Luck." 

And as he watched as the Illusive man took another drag off his cigarette before he was disconnected a sense of dread set in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this posted yesterday in honor of Shepard's birthday. Happy belated -139th Birthday Commander!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at Horizon, and even though Kaidan hasn't been free, things aren't going to go well. I'm a big fan of the next chapter, the aftermath of this one. Shepard is always going to hate Horizon.

He realized it wasn't the best decision he'd ever made, Garrus had given him a few looks when they'd first landed on the planet, a hope and a prayer that Mordin's upgrades to their armors would work; but he'd promised Kaidan he'd let him get off at their first drop and a part of him hoped that if he saw what they were up against, that Shepard wasn't just working with Cerberus for the fun of it, that maybe, _maybe_ he'd be willing to stay aboard. 

And despite the animosity, the way the other man wouldn't look at him straight--and when he did it was closed off in a way that left Shepard feeling more monstrous than he wanted to admit--they worked well together. Like old times. Like nothing had changed. That it hadn't been two years with two of them under Cerberus’ knife. 

Shepard tried not to think of what the colony might have looked like before there were Collectors swarming it. The air was tinged slightly with yellow, the light from the sun somehow dimmer and brighter than back on Earth all at once, but somehow it had an almost charming effect. Like a shot out of an old vid, the ones that romanticized the 21st century with their long scarves and political turmoil. 

His gun rose, eye pressing into the sight, his jaw clenching as he let out a breath, lungs emptying, before he took the shot, the strange bug-like creature dropping down. 

Kaidan was coming back up to his side as he lowered his own gun. "All clear Commander." 

Shepard nodded, head tilting as if he was going to lift a hand to respond over the comms, instead choosing to just speak out considering Garrus and Kaidan were both in view. "We need to scout out those buildings, check for any survivors." He gestured with two fingers in one direction and then another, pointing out opposing entrances. A silent command that they didn't need to question, Kaidan taking the left, Garrus taking the right, as Shepard moved to the front door. 

His hand thunked against the door and it slid open, gun once more raised as he scoped the room. Garrus hopped over a container after coming through the side door, Shepard catching the movement in his peripherals. 

“The buildings are getting more empty.” The words were quiet, solemn, a fact that Shepard didn’t want to think about. The Collector’s ship was looming over the horizon, but he’d hoped it wasn’t too late, that they had time to get out, not all, but at least most, of the colonists. 

Shepard’s eyes ran over the small room, it reminded him of Freedom’s Progress. People had just been going about their daily lives, eating, laughing; there were two coffee cups sitting on a table just waiting for their owners to return. Jaw clenching, his lips made a downward turn, whatever the Collector’s were doing, he needed to stop them. If the Collectors _were_ working with the Reapers, they wouldn’t just stop with the human colonies, and even if all he and his team managed was a temporary setback, he would do whatever he could, whatever small steps were needed, to keep pushing them back, make their return that much slower. 

The russet brown gaze he met nearly had him reeling with memory, a similar look ripping right through him. The both of them, walking around, stepping over, bodies of men and women that had tried desperately to escape an overprotective VI; their last moments in clear picture by the way their bodies slumped in chairs or against walls. Human suffering at it’s highest, eating away at his bones as he'd once more failed to help. The mixture of revulsion and empathy at what had occurred reflected in both their faces. 

Kaidan _had_ to understand; even if he saved just _one_ life it would be worth it. 

The room was clear, the kitchen sink still running; he watched as Kaidan reached out to turn it off. Shepard didn’t re-holster his gun, but let it hang by his side, walking over to his distant friend. Their eyes met again, there was something open to the gaze. Shepard couldn’t help it as he took a deep breath in through his nose. “Kai--” 

“Shepard!” The voice came over his headset in a hushed whisper, subharmonics unreadable, and he turned, already starting to crouch, gun returning to its defensive position. Garrus was leaning against a wall near a door, his head giving a quick jerk out the large window expanse next to him. 

Working his way over quickly, fully crouched across from Garrus, Shepard popped his head out and his eyes widened, staring before he dropped back down to look at Garrus. Those weren’t Collectors. 

There was the rasping groan and he didn’t judge Kaidan for the way his shoulders seemed to shudder, his own only barely managing to maintain their stiff appearance. Eyes darted between his two companions before he took in a breath and popped back up, taking in the quick layout of the space. 

Arm jerking out, he directed Kaidan back the way they’d came and Garrus to the opposing window on the other side. The look the human biotic gave him made him feel strangely warm inside, his lips curling into a grin that was mostly hidden behind his helmet. 

Yeah, when they were in the thick of things, nothing had changed. He wondered how sick it was that it gave him hope.

* * *

His breathing was heavy, shoulders lifting with the effort to intake air, sweat rolling down his back; he could feel it sousing down his skin. His gaze looked around the empty space, the short reprieve from battle. Garrus was slowly making his way toward him, ever the soldier, his gun still raised to make another sweep of the area. 

“Area is secured.” 

Shepard nodded, letting his gaze drop to the creature settled in front of him, scowling down at the mangled body. “These things look like the husks the geth used on Eden Prime.” 

There was a sober hum, “I thought the geth got that technology from Sovereign.” 

Shepard sucked in a breath, the lines of his face deepening in their expression. “Then the Illusive Man is right, the Collector’s are working with the Reapers.” He felt ill saying it, wishing he could pinch at his eyes and release the tension building behind them. The whole statement made his gut turn. That the Reapers were working hard to return, that the Illusive man was correct, the whole thing. 

His eyes rose to meet Kaidan’s as the other man made his own way up, a frown clearly across his own face. Shepard wondered if he’d heard his words. The fact that Kaidan wasn’t arguing, or even glaring, made him think otherwise. Instead the biotic eyes were staring down at mutated half synthetic creature below them. His gaze looked far away, his thick brows folded in concentration. Shepard could only guess what Kaidan was thinking, but it was heavy, a cloud over his broad shoulders. 

He sniffed, lifting a hand to bump at his nose in a nervous gesture, letting his own gaze fall back to the husk. Kaidan’s hoarse voice broke through the space. “Do you figure this is what’s left of the colonists?” 

“No.” Garrus’ shook his head, making Shepard nearly grin, it was a much more human movement than the turian would ever have done a year--two years ago. 

“Remember, the geth impaled their victims on giant spikes to turn them into husks. But we haven't seen any. The Collectors must have already had these. They want the colonists alive for something else.” The thought was sobering, chilling. These creatures had once been human. These creatures were not the current colonists. It meant somewhere, some other colony had dragon’s teeth littering it’s expanse, humans missing not because they were abducted by the strange aliens, but because they had been turned into abominations. 

Shepard’s head shook, parallelling Garrus’ previous movement. “And these aren't the same creatures we fought on Eden Prime,” Shepard met Kaidan’s gaze. He knew the memory, shared between them, no matter how long ago, would never leave either of them. The vision of a man morphing into a monster, stepping off a bloodied metal spike to come after you like a zombie in some old horror vid. “They're more advanced. Evolved.” 

Kaidan nodded. “Faster. Stronger,” he agreed. “Harder to take down.” 

“The Collectors must be experimenting on the colonists.” The frown deepened on his face, the next words more to himself than for the ears next to him: “what are they up to?”

“Maybe it's better not to know the details.” 

Meeting Garrus’ gaze, Shepard nodded; he could tell his own face was taut, body heavy. The sooner they could accomplish their mission, the better. “We’re not going to let the Collectors get away with any more victims. Let's move out.”

Their feet were silent as they trekked away from the dead husk, silent in their own thoughts. Shepard only glanced at Kaidan once, his expression--even through the helmet he wore--dark and brooding. He returned to his own inner turmoil, he didn't want to think about what they'd seen back there, what it meant for the long term. He couldn't even try to find hope that with it's presence it would keep Kaidan on the Normandy. It felt too ominous, like something was coming. 

Shepard snorted. Of course something was coming. He'd known that for _two years_. Since he'd been sucked into a beam of green light and woken up with vision of blood and death in his head. 

Still it was a heavy thing, to have a physical reminder of it. Since he'd awoken it had been missions and battles and political debates, trying to get people to join his crew. Sure, to _eventually_ go against the bigger threat; but this was the first time they were actually faced with what that bigger threat was. Freedom's Progress had just been the aftermath, they were looking at what _exactly_ the galaxy had in store for their future if Shepard didn't do something. 

The sudden appearance of a human body made the three of them stop. A strange red glow seemed to wrap around her skin. His weapon raised and he saw Garrus' do the same; the pop-thrum on the other side of him told him that Kaidan had put up a biotic barrier. Shepard took a hesitant step forward, gun raised but his finger not yet on the trigger. 

He didn't speak at first, taking the lead as he moved slowly toward them. When they didn't move he called out, his tone assertive. "Identify yourself." 

No answer. 

"I am Commander Shepard, I'm here to--" he stopped as he moved around to face the lone woman. She was frozen. Unlike the other colonists they'd found already in strange pods, she stood alone, solitary. He lowered his gun. 

“Looks like some type of stasis field. Leaves victims helpless, but fully aware.” Even without being a turian himself, Shepard could hear the repugnance in Garrus’ voice. 

His hand reached out tentatively, reeling back at the way the red field around her seemed to visually hiss at his heat. “She’s been like this a long time, it looks like.” And as much as it disgusted _him_ as well, it gave him hope. It meant they hadn’t ‘packaged’ everyone away yet; they weren’t too late.

Giving her one more look, the frown on his face palpable, Shepard turned and moved forward. "Search for others. I don't know that we can do much for them until we've cleared off the ship, but I want to take inventory of area." 

"Aye, aye." The sound of Kaidan's voice nearly startled Shepard, he knew-- _remembered_ \--Kaidan was with them. It was a constant in the back of his mind; his gaze never far from the other man, but he'd almost forgotten what it was like to hear him respond to an order, even if he'd not done anything contrary since they'd landed planet-side. 

The door beyond them as they circled around was locked, Shepard looked at it, glared at it really, and almost made a comment about omni-gel, but held off. "Kaidan take this." He fully realized Garrus was just as capable, hell, _he_ was probably capable, but after hearing Kaidan's response only moments ago, he could admit he was eager to see Kaidan in action. 

The biotic turned to him incredulously instead, a brow raised. " _Sir_." 

Shepard looked at him, surprised by the tone. "What?" 

There was a strange expression on the man's face, somewhere between harsh and possibly...amusement? "Unless you're expecting me to stare it down..." 

Shepard's expression was blank, even more confused. Had Cerberus screwed around in his head so much that he was no longer able to do any tech work? That seemed counter-productive to whatever their sick plans usually were meant for; they wanted to _increase_ humanities poweress, not diminish it. Kaidan was a good soldier, a powerful biotic, but he was also an excellent technician. To remove that aspect of him....

Garrus was even looking at him strangely. Maybe that wasn't it. His gaze moved between the two of them. "What?" 

He watched as his two friends looked at each other, feeling annoyed by what seemed like an inside joke that he wasn't privy too. Kaidan had only been on the ship for two days, how had they managed to reconnect that quickly when Shepard hadn't even managed to spend a minute in the same room? And _he'd_ been trying! 

" _What_?" His annoyance was palpable in his tone. 

Garrus cleared his throat. "Shepard...he doesn't have an omni-tool." 

It was like cold-water washed over him and Shepard would never admit, but color lined his neck, flushing. “Right.” The word was mumbled, a hand raising to rub at the back of his neck. “Garrus-” 

“On it Shepard.” Amusement laced the turian’s voice as he bent down to work on opening the door. 

There was a childish want to kick the taller alien, but he held back, instead finding himself looking into the whiskey-brown eyes of his other companion. His lips curled into an almost apologetic smile, his hand unconsciously moving to rub at the back of his neck again. There was a moment where he thought to say something, actually apologize out loud, maybe offer to get him another omni-tool, but he didn't know where to start. 

Kaidan for his part seemed pensive, but for once he didn't feel like he was abhorred, pinned with a contemptness he didn't know how to handle. Ever since Kaidan had returned to the Normandy it had been a battle between storming in and hashing out whatever problems the man had with him and avoiding him like some sort of rebuked child. 

What little information he had gleaned about what had happened to Kaidan, he understood the biotic’s distrust of him, with the very ship he walked along. Hell, he shared in that distrust nightly. Tucking himself into the hard bed, he'd stare up at the drifting stars before he couldn't stand their overwhelming presence and close the skylight, instead having to listen to the pounding of his half-synthetic heart wondering if his mind was really his own, if he was even still human. 

Suddenly he had the urge to reach out and touch Kaidan, to prove that _he_ was human. Maybe he was still in that god-forsaken coma and it was all a dream, that the dark-haired man was a figment of his imagination, guilting him for not doing more. Or maybe he was actually dead. If that was the case he was likely in hell because heaven surely wouldn't have him side with the devil. 

Shepard snorted at the thought; he didn't know when he'd become so philosophical, or for that matter, quite so dramatic. No, this was his reality and he'd deal with it as it came. It was how he'd always lived his life. Even if now his life wasn't really under his control, he would wrangel whatever _control_ he could find, at least until he could break free of his own prison. 

The human biotic was giving him a strange look, but didn't comment, instead looked down at the turian still bent over struggling. "If you overload the--"

"You think I don't know that Alenko?" The words were rough but there was a clear thread of fondness in the harmonics. 

"I don't know, you haven't decrypted the sensory feed yet, figured you'd lost your edge without Tali around to cover your ass." 

And while Turian's only had three fingers to begin with, it was enough to give the bird, and despite it being a very human gesture, the two were reward with that very visual. A fact that had Shepard nearly doubling over with laughter, his hand reaching out to rest on Kaidan's shoulder as he tried to gather his breath. 

"Nice one Archangel." 

"Archangel?" 

"It's his--"

"No, I know who Archangel is." 

Garrus stopped what he was doing to turn at look at the slightly taller man, Shepard staring, the hints of laughter gone from his face. 

"What?" 

Kaidan nearly rolled his eyes not quite looking at either of them. Even beneath his helmet, Shepard could see the small twist of his lips, a smirk that Shepard hadn't realized he missed until that moment. 

"I was in a prison for months. A _mercenary_ owned prison." 

There was a pleased sort of sound coming from the alien and Shepard groaned. "He's going to be impossible. His ego, Kaidan." 

"You're only jealous your name wasn't circulating prison ships." 

"Want to bet on that Vakarian?" 

"Hate to say it Shepard, but, he's right. Your name just wasn't popular scuttlebutt." There was a lightness to his tone as he said it, their banter familiar even if the topic wasn't. 

"Don't worry Shepard, I'm sure if you hadn't taken a two year long nap you'd be all the rage in merc magazines." The words had a bit of a sobering effect, Garrus tone changing almost immediately to something more apologetic as he tried to backpedal. "I'm- ah-" 

Shepard all at once realized how tense he was and how close into Kaidan's personal space he'd somehow gotten. His movements were jolted, awkward, as he stepped back removing his hand not as judiciously as perhaps he should have from Kaidan's shoulder. "How are we on that door?" He didn't bother acknowledging the faux pas about the past two years, it wouldn't do any of them good. He didn't want to dwell on it, Garrus would only feel more uncomfortable if he acted like he needed the apology, and Kaidan...he didn't even glance over at the other man to see how it had affected him. 

Garrus didn't even bother looking back up, his attention letting the task at hand distract him from the embarrassment. "Almost have it…” there was a pause and a few clicks, “there." 

The door slid open, large stacked crates blocking their view. Shepard frowned before moving forward, not waiting for Garrus to even finish standing before taking point. There was limited view from either side of the crates, a small half-wall jutting out from the development they'd passed from. He let his other senses take over, focused instead on the sound of the otherwise still air. Kaidan and Garrus' footsteps were nearly silent, quiet pads of sound that he could only detect because they were so close and he knew what to listen out for; and for the moment, it sounded like they were, in fact, alone, before the resounding buzzing returned and Shepard's shoulders tightened, the droning already functioning as a streamline to his adrenaline. 

There was heavy cover and at a peripheral look, heavy enemy force. He didn't even bother to direct his companions, simply ran from the protection of their cover, adrenaline focusing him, before he dove behind the wall. 

The sounds of bullets whizzed along, he wasn't sure if it was friendly or enemy, though he doubted it would be long before it was both. From the corner of his eye he watched Garrus find his own cover along the same wall though further down, an honestly better defensive position with the perpendicular angles, his Mantis resting to take the first shot of a Collector coming over one of the upper levels. 

Even in the midst of a firefight Shepard couldn't help but feel amusement in regards to his guns expert, sniping from a lower position; anyone else would have thought it dangerous, suicidal. Garrus probably took it as a challenge. 

There was the crackling sound of biotics and he swore he could smell the eezo fire past him as another Collector rose in the air encased in the flickering blue, Shepard cackled and stood, taking the shot against the floating alien, bounding over the wall to rush the next one that had moved in close. 

His elbow reeled around, landing a blow to what he assumed would have been the creature's chin, if it had any visible mouth, making it fall back a step as he rose his shotgun, blasting it hard in the chest. It fell with ease. 

Head raising, he was just in time to hear the horrifying moan and eyes wide, whites bleeding around his bright irises, he was met with a monstrosity worse than he had previously comprehended. Shepard's gun was up just in time to watch the facsimile of one mutated pustule on the creature's back glow blue. 

He heard rather than felt it, the crack of the beam as it hit his shields, knocking them down in one fail swoop, throwing him back. His body felt like a ragdolls, flung into stacked cases, tossing them aside, landing atop him as he struggled to get back on his feet. 

There was the sound of someone swearing through his helmet, barely discernible over the blood rushing in his skull. His arm shuddered slightly under his weight before he managed to sit up, pushing one of the smaller crates up off of him. There was the sound again as he did, this time the swearing came from his own mouth, his legs unable to support him to move out of the way. 

Shepard closed his eyes against the blow only to find himself unharmed. Brows folding, he was greeted with wavering blue around him and his throat tightened; still, he used the reprieve to push himself up and lift his gun, the flash bang of his shotgun seemed to break the barrier Kaidan had erected around him, but he knew it was more a well oiled dance, Kaidan reading his moves before Shepard could think them. 

The monster stumbled back on it's own, the lumps of glowing blue twitching over the stretched flesh. It made him want to gag, the body a mass of what he could only assume was to come. 

The moment the shot was off, the barrier was wrapping itself around him again and Shepard moved forward, jaw clenched, teeth bared. It became a harmonic battlefield waltz, Shepard cocking his gun, taking a step, firing off a shot as the barrier flickered up and down to let each bullet through. The creature kept falling further and further back, not quite able to charge up another shot on its own, that bone-chilling groan filling the air every time it was hit. 

The strange luminescent white liquid spilled out of it every time a hit landed, soon spraying the front of Shepard's armor as he was close enough to make the final mark, the bullet lodging deep in the molletted flesh. 

His eyes were hard as he watched it waver its stance before falling to its knees, one last pitiful moan rolling from his gut as it fell in a heap on the ground. Had he not been wearing his helmet Shepard would have spit on the thing, made the motion even, a husky laugh ringing over his headset as he did. 

Shepard had no time to look over at Kaidan, let alone decipher the sound, or the feeling it left, as the loud boom of Garrus’ Mantis rang in the air. Spinning around two more Collectors headed their direction, one ducking behind another crate ( _was the damn place a loading dock or something?_ ) as the other seemed to ignore Shepard completely, heading for the direction of the shot that had taken out their companion. 

There had been every intention to cut the creature off when a blast of sound went off and then another, bursts of blue flinging themselves along the ground til they exploded in a bright crack over the alien. Even as Shepard turned his attention to the last creature, he muttered an awed " _fuck_ ," gaining another laugh, though this time two toned, less throaty. 

"Nice one," was the responding voice, quickly accompanied with the intake of breath and Shepard assumed that Garrus was leaving his refuge to join in his more frontal assault. 

Sure enough as Shepard slipped around to flank the last remaining Collector he heard the almost-silent footfalls. He'd fully expected to turn the corner and be met with the wrong end of the strange alien weapon, his shield's turned up to maximum for that very reason, only to greet the back of the sloping skull. His aim rose to take the headshot a moment too slow, with the Collector turning to take his own mark, the bright burst of yellow from the weapon sizzling as he heard it meet its own target. 

It was in the same moment that Shepard's own gun fired off, expecting chunks of plated skull to hit his shields. Instead they were greeted with the crack of electricity as the Collector rose into the air a voice seeming to reverberate around in his skull. "I'm assuming direct control." The words were two-toned, though sounded nothing like any turian he'd ever met; and the voice seemed to emanate, rather, from inside his head instead of the creature in front of him, that was now turning, pointing the gun back toward him. 

Shepard threw himself into a roll, back around the crate, just out of range, though temporarily. Body pressed to it flush, gulping down hard lungfuls of air, Shepard pulled out a grenade, fingers automatic in their haibt, pulling the pin, tossing it perhaps more randomly than he should have, a bit rattled as the voice echoed in his head again. "Nothing stands against us." 

Shaking his head as if to toss out the intrusion, he was running backwards away from the timed explosion, feeling the heat of it even as he put a good distance between them. The particle beam was heating up, the trajectory clearly on point, but as before there was a loud booming sound and he watched as bursts of blue hurdled down the cluttered field making one final explosion beneath the alien's feet. It fell back in an arc, the barrier crackling and dissipating around it, leaving Shepard to throw another grenade at it, satisfied as he watched it go off. 

Turning slightly to the side, his eyes sought out Kaidan and Garrus only to have his head crack with pain and the two-toned voice rang inside his skull. "This body does not feel." And Shepard barely had any time to react before the sharp sound of a laser sizzled in the air. 

His shield's sparked and his chest constricted with the pressure, his feet agonizing to move from the force, but he pushed himself out of the line of fire, ignoring the smoke that was apparently coming up off his armor and the klaxon warning from his HUD. His muscles were sluggish but he managed to fire off a shot, glad to hear the boom of a sniper rifle come from behind him. 

His feet were still struggling to move with their normal ease, boots heavy as he returned to cover, his peripheral vision catching Garrus moving into a better position. "Kaidan--" 

"On it," was his returned reply, and though he couldn't see him, Shepard could just imagine the biotic circling around to flank it. Removing himself from cover, Shepard went to send off another shot only to get the start of another beam, immediately throwing him back to cover. He heard the burst of Garrus' gun before a cry went out and then silence. 

There was suddenly no sound of lasers or bullets whizzing, just the smell of eezo hanging in the air, and then Kaidan's voice crackled: "Garrus' is down." Holstering his weapon in a flurry, he jumped over the half-wall he'd made shelter behind and moved in a short sprint to the fallen turian, Kaidan already bent over him administering medi-gel; the downed Collector's body nearly sizzling and smoking near by. 

Words failed in his throat, an attempt at some quib falling short as he saw his friend stutter to raise up on one elbow, and the flash of a too-recent memory filling his vision instead. Blue blood pooling around a horrifying wound, the sound of his voice harsh and desperate calling out his friend's name, a realization of how much he _needed_ this man to survive. 

He internally shook it off, watching as the taloned hand took hold of a five-fingered one, back on his feet like nothing had happened. "That's going to sting tomorrow," was the amused thrum and Shepard tried to grin. 

"Yeah? We'll compare notes tomorrow." 

Garrus laugh was short but felt, before he was turning to the other member of their trio. "Impressive use of biotics out there Alenko. Didn't know you could use shockwave." 

The compliment was sincere so he was surprised when the other man's shoulders got tight with it. Kaidan had always been modest with accepting accolades, a bit awkward but never uncomfortable, a fact that shown on the little of his face that was visible, skin a bit too tight over his jaw, his cheekbones almost more prominent with the action. 

"Yeah," was the only response, and while Garrus didn't say anything else his head tilted toward Shepard, and though he couldn't see his face, Shepard could clearly imagine the look the turian was giving him. He gave a curt, jerking shake to his head, the gesture enough to stop any questions toward him as the biotic took a heavy step past them. 

"There's another locked door over here. The other exit," Kaidan's hand gestured toward their right, "is blocked. Could have been the Collector's or the colonists, but the ship is," his hand turned to gesture forward, toward the locked door, "that way, so assume that's the way we should head." 

"Aye, aye Commander." 

It was another attempt at a jest, his hope to clear the air; with the way the broad shoulders bunched, Shepard realized he'd failed, Kaidan spun around his teeth bared in an angry grimace.

" _You_ don't get to call me that Shepard. I'm no more an Alliance Commander than _you_ are." 

Shepard stared for a moment before his own anger rose up into his throat, tired of being attacked for something he had no control over, truth or not. Going stock still he tried to gather himself, his eyes boring hard and dark at the other man. "What do you want me to do Kaidan? I already spoke to Anderson, they are stonewalling me! The Council only saw me because he pulled some pretty heavy strings. It's already so far under the fucking ground that they bothered to reinstate me as Spectre--"

Kaidan reeled back, his face awash with surprise and indignation. "They reinstated you?"

"Title only, I promise," was snapped back. 

"Smart move, considering you're probably a Cerberus puppet." 

That snapping tone set him off, Shepard took a hard step, nearly in Kaidan's face. "I am not _with_ Cerberus, I'm using them because who else is going to do anything?"

"You mean to tell me that the Alliance has done _nothing_. Shepard, I can't and _won't_ believe that, they may--"

"You know _exactly_ what they did with the threat of Saren! They--"

"That was the Council and the fact that you are confusing the two--"

"Kaidan. You're so focused on Cerberus you're not seeing--" The subharmoniced thrum broke in, somewhere between trying to be peacemaker and holding its own ire.

"No Garrus, you don't get a say. Shepard I can almost understand, they brought him back, maybe he feels like he owes them, maybe he doesn't have any control," Kaidan shook his head, "I don't like it, but I could _almost_ justify it. You? Joker? _Chakwas_? You all joined because what? Shepard _asked_ you too? How does _that_ look?!" 

Shepard stepped that much closer in, teeth baring. "Question me Kaidan, but you don't have a right to question my crew." 

There was that quiet snort of laughter, cold and hard. "Your crew. Right. Use to be a part of that."

"And you're welcome to be again _Commander_ , but you're either with me or against me." 

Kaidan stepped back, hands raising, his heavy brows folding with revulsion. "Well there it is, isn't it. Sorry _Commander_. But this is one place I can't follow." 

It was Garrus this time that moved forward, his subharmonics steel edged. "Cerberus isn't the enemy here Kaidan! You're--"

"I know, ' _too focused on the wrong enemy_ '. Sorry Vakarian, but they took enough from me. I'm not interested in volunteering more." His eyes jerked to Shepard for a moment, and there was a flash of something that looked like pity that only inflamed Shepard's temper, his teeth grinding hard in his mouth. "Let’s get this over with and then I'm gone." And although Shepard wanted more than anything to grab the man, force him to listen, to keep hashing out the argument, he watched as Kaidan closed off. 

End of the discussion.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full force of Shepard's doubts for himself and who he is are laid bare in this chapter. There are some flashbacks and turian's not being good head rests. 
> 
> Chapter 6 is actually going to be a little late. As I've been posting this I realized just how out of place and pointless the current Chapter 6 is, and am having to do a massive rewrite. Hopefully it won't be too long!
> 
> Also, not that anyone else cares, but I have massive Toombs feels. I want to read/write a fic that is just all Toombs all the time. Just the whole series from Toombs POV.

The hum of the drive core was the only sound that echoed in the space and even that was dull, just a faint thrum in his bones. His fingers dug into his scalp, the rough feel of hair catching along the calluses of his fingers. There was an empty glass sitting in front of him; the bottle still half full, aching to refill it's companion. Shepard stared at it, the alcohol already sloshing in his system burning bad decisions in his veins. 

His faint hope to convince Kaidan to stay had disappeared, along with the man. All lost to the depleted population of a hurting colony. His anger had quickly morphed as he poured all manner of viscous liquid down his throat. As Jacob had watched him almost throw his weapons on the bench, Shepard had not bother to say a word before storming away. He was fairly sure he'd seen Garrus give the other human a look as Jacob had gone to call out to him, but Shepard hadn't cared, hadn't stopped. He'd even ignored the chipper greeting from Yeoman Chambers, nearly slamming his hand on the call button for the elevator, his entire body so tight his muscles were like rocks beneath his flesh. 

He'd meant to go up to his cabin first, seeth, maybe punch something, but he'd found himself in the Port Observation listening to Kasumi's welcome as he simply walked to the bar, pouring himself the first drink. 

Bless the Japanese thief, she hadn't bothered to say anything else to him, and though she did eventually move to join him (pouring herself a glass that he was fairly sure she never touched) hoping her presence would calm him. It worked up until the door slid open and he heard the unimpressed thrum of a turian behind them. 

Shepard didn't bother to turn around, simply slammed the drink he had, before grabbing the bottle and glass, moving around him, nearly shoulder-checking him as he went. There was an expression on Garrus' face that he didn't recognize, didn't care to decipher, and the turian didn't follow, just crossed his arms and watched the Commander leave. 

The darkened room was more than enough company for him. The school of Skaid fish perfect silent companions. Sitting up, he took another heavy pull of his drink and leaned back, head falling to the leather cushion. His throat burned brilliantly, his skin seemed to buzz with a numb feeling that he wished could span on forever. He wanted to hold onto his anger. The way the choler had boiled in his blood as he listened to Kaidan call him a traitor; keeping it would have had made life so much easier, made watching the man walk away softer on his memory. 

Instead, he kept hobbling between being _so grateful_ for Kaidan's loyalty and hurting because of his pain. If there was one thing that Shepard could always trust when it came to Kaidan Alenko, it was his ability to ask the tough questions, to follow through on the hard choices. Even though he was sure that some part of Kaidan's words, feelings, were shadowed by his own experiences (ones that Shepard had been desperate to get more information about), he could picture a similar exchange if the past two years had passed unheeded. 

And truthfully Shepard knew how high the percentage he _wasn't_ himself was; as white walls had swum around his vision, body aching with atrophied muscles, Cerberus soldiers dying around him--he had no way of knowing who he was, if he was who they said he was. His identity rested on the word of two crewmembers on someone else's payroll. His skin itched with that knowledge, that somewhere buried deep inside him there was some chip, some wiring that could be flicked on with the press of a button, turning him into a puppet. 

Digging knuckles into his eyes, his palms turning to press hard until he was seeing stars; he didn't even bother to try and blink them away as he reached back for his glass, pouring another three fingers full. The liquid was warm on his tongue as he tipped it back, letting a breath pass out his nose he looked down at the translucent liquor, swirling it over the crystal. 

The undercut to Garrus and the others had been a little low. Or he was trying to convince himself of that. Garrus, Shepard understood his choice to come aboard, even if Kaidan couldn't. The man had been at death's door, beckoning the Grim to make one false shot; and Shepard had sought him out, got Garrus to sign on because he's asked him too. He felt some unease with Garrus being so confident in who he, Shepard, was, but he didn't doubt Garrus' motives. 

Joker and the Doctor? It needled him that ' _let him fly_ ' had been Joker's answer. It prodded at him as he sat staring at the comely fish, swimming without a care in the world. It rankled at the back of his thoughts whenever he gave Joker another direction to go, even as he listened to him bicker with the AI. 

But it was Chakwas, the dear old doctor that he almost hoped was a spy. Vigilantly watching him for the Alliance. As much as he wanted to trust her otherwise, he wouldn't be surprised (all the while being almost desperate to know that _she_ did have her doubts) and almost welcomed it. The only reason he hadn't stormed down to the med-bay and asked her to do scans for control chips or some advanced VI programming was his fear that she was, that she had never been, Alliance ‘through and through’. That she had been Cerberus from the beginning, a double-agent (because his life had turned into a bad sci-fi vid). 

It was the double edged sword. Was she there to report back to their government or to the terrorist group? He'd rather stumble amongst his fears than give Cerberus a reason to activate any mind-control they _might_ have. If she was on his ship to feed information back to Hackett or Anderson, hell even Udina, he would breath easier at night; but the possibility of the opposite...lingered, kept him silent.

His body leaned forward, elbows holding up his weight as he buried his face in his hands again. Shoulders shook with the heavy emotions and without his control the clean-shaven face of his once Staff Lieutenant wavered in his minds-eye, replaced with the grim picture of the older Commander he'd left behind. 

An anguished shout reverberated in the air, startling him, even more so when he realized the sound was tearing itself from _his_ throat; his fist throbbing against the head of his coffee table. 

" _Fuck_. _**Fuck**_." His brain was mutinying. Memory of roughened fingers wrapped around a cotton-covered shoulder, laughter echoing in the Mess. The longing for another whiff, of aftershave and eezo, the only thing that helped him sleep at night; and the _want_ that drove him to ashamedly take himself in hand, clinging to the scent for so many nights. 

He'd been a pathetic man even before Cerberus brought him back. Alliance protocol and a badly ended dalliance with fraternization kept him from acting, admitting to the other man how he felt, but it didn't stop him from using the fantasy as he'd laid alone; hidden in the dark--didn't stop him from hoping that the longer looks were more than his Staff Lieutenant's charming awkwardness. 

Shepard meant to pick up the bottle of whiskey and top himself off, instead his hand flung out at the bottle, it and the glass flying, crashing into the wall. The sound should have been cathartic; instead it only fueled the want to break something else. It started with the table in front of him, overturning it with a harsh bellow, before he was flinging the desk chair aside, hurling data pads off its flat top, medal picked up and thrown with all the strength he could muster at the fish tank. A hand reached for the helmet resting on its stand before he stopped, chest heaving, eyes red rimmed as he looked down at it. 

It was scratched, dented, he could feel the marks left behind by his gauntlet'd fingers as he'd dug at its back trying to-- 

Shepard slid to the floor, chest tight and aching as he pulled the helmet, metal cool, to his forehead, knees pulling up to curl himself into the inanimate object. 

The end of his life. The cold blackness. Even if it had been preceded by anything but pain. He couldn’t remember much form after; a few disconnected words, a wavering face or two, in those intermediate years. It had been like a long sleep.

He would have been content to stay there, die there curled up in the memory if he could, but the pinging sound of his terminal went off, his eyes catching a green light flickering in his peripherals. Shepard wanted to leave it, ignore it for another day, another life, but he pulled himself up, carefully putting the helmet back before stepping around the mess he'd created, ignoring it because what else could he do?

He didn't bother to sit down, his body bent to open up the message, scrolling along the older ones before the new flickered to life. For a long moment he started at the subject, didn't bother to open it. 

Toombs. Why was Toombs sending him a message? Why did Toombs have access to his private address? Opening the bolded communication his body seized up going straight as fists tightened, nails digging into the fleshy part of his palm.

> _From: Toombs, Curtis_
> 
> _What the hell kind of game are you playing, Shepard? You did the commiserating act when I had the gun on that Cerberus scientist, telling me you understood. Now I find out that you're working for Cerberus?_
> 
> _Tests were done on me that you can't even imagine. For years. Cerberus did them. They tortured me. They used me as a damn lab rat. And now you're teaming up with them like they're any other merc band?_
> 
> _The man got off, you know that? Immunity for information. Are you hoping for the same thing John?_
> 
> _I won't let it happen again. I've got my own merc team now. And I'll kill any Cerberus team I can find. If I run into you, don't expect any different. Past or no past._

* * *

There was the woosh of air as his door opened and footsteps just a hair away from silent (if you knew what to listen for) and a grip to his shoulder that should have made him reach out to attack, or at least caused him to jump, instead left Shepard still, as if disconnected from his body, though the touch did cement him back into reality. 

There was concern pale across Garrus' face, if a turian could go pale, and it surprised Shepard more than anything. 

"Shepard..." he'd never heard Garrus' voice sound like that before, not even when he'd talked of Dr. Saleon. The only thing he could compare it too was the way it seemed to strangle itself off when he'd _almost_ start talking about his old team. 

He tried to say something, even felt his mouth open, but he was pretty sure the "it's fine" he meant to get out wasn't clear because he found himself awkward, leaning his forehead against his friend's carapace and damn if it was the most uncomfortable place to be. Did the turian never take his damn armor off? 

There was an even more awkward pat to his shoulder before he was being pushed away, eyes staring into his that made Shepard shuffle on his feet and step back, pinching at his own, surprised at the wetness he felt there. 

Lifting both his palms he ran them along his cheekbones, trying to hide the moisture sticking sickly to his skin, eyelashes clumped together as he blinked the rest away. Garrus was standing, stiff and unsure, as his arms crossed and Shepard's brows folded. 

His cabin was...a disaster (was an understatement). His earlier mess had increased ten fold, bedding heaped in a pile at the end of the bed, there was glass on the floor that he didn't quite understand where from, until--his gazed dropped down, the once intact model of the SR-1 was in pieces on the floor, the display case's door broken from its hinges. 

His chest heaved and he found himself sitting, leaning forward at the edge of his bed. A hand hurt, he didn't bother to look at it. "Garrus--" his voice was thick, mucus distorting his throat. "It's--"

"If you say ‘it's fine’ Shepard I'm going to have to call bullshit." 

The corner of his lips twitched but he didn't move from his position. "Right, it's not fine."

"I know." 

Shepard moved his hands to scrub at his face, one cupping around his mouth as he didn't otherwise answer or elaborate. His eyes caught Garrus' movements, the alien moving to stand in front of him. He didn't even bother to look up, instead focusing on the design along the blue armor. 

"Did you really expect--"

"Don't." 

There was the thoughtful hum even as he felt Garrus’ gaze piercing and after a moment defensiveness rose in his throat, his own eyes hard. "Kaidan made the right move." 

Garrus remained silent. 

"He'd been captured by Cerberus, he lost as many years as I did. The organization we saw _before_ we were attacked was bad enough; if even half of what he alluded to was true, I can't judge him. Can't be upset. I'm _not_ upset. He made the right call." The last was spoken with what he hoped was conviction, because he was trying to convince himself of that fact. His head knew that was _exactly_ the truth, and he respected Kaidan for it, appreciated that no matter what Cerberus had done to him, they could not chang his character. If there was one thing he could believe in, it was Kaidan's honor, and that meant more than anything. It was why he'd always trust the man, why'd he'd always want him at his back, why he _wanted_ him at his back, even if he knew those were the very reasons that kept Kaidan from fulfilling that want. It was why he'd taken Kaidan down to Horizon, even as he'd watched the brown eyes darken and glower and, inevitable, leave. 

He realized he'd been silent for quite some time, gaze rising to meet the electric alien blue. He didn't like the look he was getting, a scowl etching deep into his jaw in response. "Garrus." 

Silence greeted him. Again. 

Shepard's back straightened where he sat, pulling himself together enough to project some semblance of authority. That, even before he was able to speak, caused Garrus to react; the turian turning to take a seat next to him, alien limbs at awkward angles all bone and spurs. 

"I know that, knew that. I wanted to make sure _you_ did." 

A snort was the returned answer and then silence from both of them. It lingered, pregnant and hard-edged. 

At least...until it wasn't. Until it lingered for a little bit longer, from awkward to uncomfortable, from uncomfortable to simply strained. Shepard's shoulders relaxed slightly. He took in a breath and let his body fall forward to a more relaxed position, his body arching forward so his hands could clasp between his knees. The cabin really was trashed, he noted. 

"So, doing some redecorating?" 

There was a pause before Shepard was laughing, harder than he ought, the statement not _that_ funny, but the final break in tension that he needed. 

"Something like that." His one hand throbbed and finally he decided to pay attention to it. "Mm, think I broke my hand." 

It was Garrus' turn to laugh, his head thrown back slightly. "Hell of a renovation." 

Shepard's lips curved into a half-smile, but didn't otherwise respond, standing instead, to step over the broken glass of a lightbulb, the accompanying lamp prone on its side. The door to the head opened and he turned to pull down a brace and some medi-gel, refusing to make eye contact in the mirror as he wrapped his hand. Toombs words echoed in his head. A lab rat, tortured, tested on, barely seen as human to a bunch of scientists. He _had_ talked Toombs down from killing that man, didn't want to see someone he'd once cared about go down that path, not if he could stop it. 

Hell, the sight of him alive... He'd thought he'd lost everyone in that attack, watched as his squadmates fell, their screams still echoed in his nightmares. 

_A screech broke through the air, the blackened sky was filled with smoke and death, his side throbbed painfully, armor sizzling into his skin. Shepard didn't dare touch the wound, instead limping as quickly as possible between one of the prefab units, body nearly slamming in agony against one, trying to suck in air to otherwise disagreeing lungs._

_There was a loud thud and he flinched back, trying to make his body as small as possible against the unit. A body ran by and his hand reached out on instinct, pulling it in next to him. The face smooth, besides a pathetic attempt at a pale goatee, had him nearly crying out in joy, hand squeezing at the arm it was still wrapped around, "Curtis."_

_"John," the voice was breathless, there was fear in his eyes, voice tainted with the same. "We need to get to the-- Shepard! You're- _fuck_. We need to get you--"_

_"No. Toombs, we need to get to the arms locker. Whatever that thing is we don't stand a chance if we don't have more than a Kessler and what your--"_

_A wry grin came across his face, apology in his eyes, "Weston."_

_In any other moment Shepard would have rolled his eyes and teased him, the weapon outdated and less powerful than other Alliance standard, but he knew Toombs, knew he'd never part with the damn thing. Instead his hand moved to wrap around the back of his neck and pulled their foreheads together, garnering strength from the touch._

_"Come on."_

Shit. 

Shepard leaned forward on the sink, forehead nearly touching the cool of the mirror, his eyes prickled, red rimmed. His body was shaking. He shook his head, hard, as he forced down a swallow, the thick phlegm barely cooperating, before giving another quick shaking jerk of his head again and he pushed himself back, stepping away from the porcelain, pinching at his eyes, as he tried to get the tremors of his body under control. 

He hadn't thought of that night for almost two years ( _four, remember dammit_ ). He really wasn't interested in continuing down that path. A nightmare every blue moon was more than enough to relive one of the worst nights of his life. 

With the cold water running, he was glad to splash it against his face, glancing down at the bandaged hand, carefully flexing his fingers, face going tight at the pain that shot up his arm. It'd be fine by morning. 

Scrubbing a towel across his face, Shepard stepped out to find Garrus still by the bed, standing at the desk with it's occupants returned to their homes (although the broken bulb was not replaced) and the bedsheets a heap on the bed instead of the floor. As Shepard stepped down Garrus’ attention turned to him although silence greeted them for a heartbeat and then two. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Shepard had been in the bathroom a long time, he knew, and Garrus wasn't an idiot, bandaging a hand was quick work. His lips thinned and tightened, forcing a neutral look to settle there. "No." 

He received a nod in response, Shepard assumed his friend was glad, though would have stayed and hashed it out if he'd shown a preference. Turian's were straight military through and through; they didn't talk about _feelings_ (unless it was feelings about not getting to shoot something enough times). And truthfully, Shepard wasn't particularly interested in hashing it out. 

Let it lie. 

Things were easier that way. 

Garrus moved to where his drinking glass, somehow still intact even after he'd tossed it across the room, and the now empty whiskey bottle had landed. Picking both of them up, his back straightened and he gave Shepard a look, the flickering of his mandibles seemed to try and ease the clipped sound of his oncoming words. "I'm taking these. Kasumi isn't going to be pleased at your selfishness." He waved the bottle in his direction and Shepard gave a grin that didn't match his eyes. 

"That one wasn't even hers." 

"If you ask her, she'll say otherwise." 

"It's not really stealing if it was in the same room." 

Garrus chuckled, the sound tapering into silence. Shepard’s hand rose, rubbing at the back of his neck, tilting it to crack it. Garrus cleared his throat. “You should have Chakwas look that over.” 

“Yeah.” 

And with one last pointed look Garrus stepped out, the sound of the door the final sound, Shepard left to his own dark thoughts and...massive clean up.


End file.
